


Missing Pieces - Fictober Challenge 2018

by Lady_Mischievous



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Crushes, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fictober, Fictober 2018, Gen, Headcanon, M/M, Multi, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Burn, tags will update as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-05
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-07-25 11:44:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16196864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Mischievous/pseuds/Lady_Mischievous
Summary: So many fragments, so little time.An attempt at 2018's Fictober.





	1. Day 1: “Can you feel this?”

**Author's Note:**

> Just as a heads up a lot of these fics are going to center around my own perspeceseptions on characters, AU's, and headcanons on some of my fave Warcraft lore characters. I may tweak/combine/twist bits and bobs of old and new lore here and there. If you’re not into that kind of thing then these fics might not be for you.

**Day 1: “Can you feel this?”**

 

“Tell me, can you feel _this_?”

 

“A-ahh…? AHH!” Medivh blinked before his eyes grew wide at the hard pinched pain in the side of his face. He pulled away, weakly batting at the slender, offending hand.

 

“Oh hush, that’s only a _fraction_ of the pain and indignation that _you_ caused _me_.” said a throaty, feminine voice. Its tone was strict and all too familiar.

 

Medivh turned his head to look at the woman seated next to his bedside. His gaze met with emerald eyes that eerily matched his own. A word bubbled up from his chest on instinct.

 

“...Muh...ther…?” Medivh winced at the strange feeling attempting to speak brought. He couldn’t recognize the sound of his own voice. “Wha arrre youu d-doooinnn--...”

 

The words died with a sudden cough, his voice strained and his throat ached. Medivh reached up to rub the soreness away but his fingers pressed against something prickly, it felt like something stiff laced into his skin. Medivh winced as his neck throbbed in pain at the touch.

 

“Don’t touch that.” Aegwynn commanded. She reached over, grabbed her son’s wrist and guided his hand away from his throat. “At least your nerves are working, safe to say you’re not a corpse...”

 

Medivh frowned, the way his mother said that sounded strange. But his mind was a mess, feeling as though his skull was stuffed with cotton. Needless to say, it made any thought challenging. Medivh’s eyes slid closed and began to drift off as his mother continued speaking. Her words sounded garbled, as though he were listening to her from underwater.

 

A hard, swift flick to the forehead brought Medivh back to the world of consciousness. He glared at her annoyed at her insistence of keeping him awake.

 

“Moorrr…!” Medivh croaked before coughing. He tried again, forcing his words. “Moorr-oes! Mor...oes!”

 

Aegwynn watched her son as he called out for the ever loyal Castellan, her once only remaining friend. It was pathetic, the way he mewled like a kitten calling for its mother. Moroes was far too soft on him and he got attached, how...unprofessional. Part of Aegwynn had the mind to burst Medivh’s bubble, to tell him then and there that Moroes wouldn’t be coming. That he was long since dead. That Medivh had killed him when he succumbed to madness.

 

“Moroes isn’t here, Medivh.” Aegwynn began. She managed to reign in the urge to slap him with the truth at the last moment. She couldn’t yet, not with the state he was in. “You’re very sick so you’re staying with mother...”

 

It felt odd staring into eyes that were so much like her own. Stranger still to see them light up in quiet surprise. Medivh was like his father, emotional and a romantic, hungry for love and affection.

 

As much as Aegwynn didn’t want to admit it, there was merit in Moroes’ approach to her son. Her magic allowed her to reconstruct Medivh’s body but the magic was useless for the challenge ahead. Compassion and a little affection was needed. Medivh was truly alive but he was no stronger than a baby bird. The matter was partially in his hands now, he needed to _want_ to live.

 

Perhaps it was a blessing that his mind was currently as scrambled as it was. For if he realized the truth so soon, surely Medivh would allow himself slip back into the abyss.

 

-End of Fic 1-


	2. Day 2: “People like you have no imagination.”

**Day 2: “People like you have no imagination.”**

 

Constance did a double take upon noticing Archmage Khadgar enter the library. He walked by the checkout counter where she was stationed, offering a small wave and a smile. Constance’s face burned as it flushed red and she timidly waved back. It had been a while since Khadgar last visited the library but _something_ about him that day struck her like a sucker punch.

 

Constance waited for Khadgar to vanish among the various bookshelves before hurrying to catch her coworkers. “Korance, did you see who just walked in?”

 

Korance looked up from her work of organizing books to see the excitable Constance. “Archmage Khadgar, why?”

 

Constance moved in a little closer before whispering to her coworker. “Is it just me or does he look...a little different?”

 

“A _little_?” Korance quirked a brow. “Try a lot.”

 

Constance looked over her shoulder just to be sure Khadgar wasn’t too close by. “I remember when he came here after he arrived from Outland, he had a beard that went down to his knees!”

 

A mall laugh escaped Korance before she added: “I heard one of the faculty compare him to a piece of shoveltusk jerky.”

 

The pair giggled among themselves, such a horrible thing to say of someone that was so cruelly cursed.

 

Khadgar was the subject of chatter among a number of magi that was growing in popularity. Since his return from Outland, the archmage seemed to be looking younger over time. It started with him simply shaving off the long, silver beard that hung from his chin. Then day by day wrinkles slowly faded away and a healthy color tinged his cheeks. Scars from battles past still marred his face but weren’t as harsh with a more youthful appearance. Khadgar looked much less a man under a wicked curse and more his true age. Dare one say it, his appearance and sense of humor made him charming.

 

“I heard that on Outland the archmage was friends with a Naruu, maybe he’s blessed?” Constance suggested, imagining how beautiful the sight of such a creature of light must be.

 

“That’s _not_ how the light works...”

 

Constance rolled her eyes at her coworker before suggesting something else. “Maybe he made a pact with a demon?”

 

“Doubt it, not after what happened with his mentor...” Korance promptly shot the idea down with no mercy.

 

“Alright, then what do _you_ think happened?”

 

“Obviously it’s an illusion.” Korance said as she continued sorting books. “You can feel a spell surrounding him if you concentrate. Can’t say I’m judging though, vanity is just another part of the human experience.”

 

“Ugh, Korance! People like you have no imagination.” Constance scoffed. “Have you no sense of wonder or romance?”

 

“No, not really...” Korance looked at Constance and gave a playful smirk. “I don’t need to since you have more than enough for the both of us.” She took Constance’s hand into her own, lifted it to her lips and planted a soft kiss. At seeing the girl’s face flush red at the gesture Korance winked at her. “Now, back to work, we have to finish up if we want to have that date tonight.”

 

-End of Fic 2-


	3. Day 3: “How can I trust you?”

**Day 3: “How can I trust you?”**

 

“You act like a child!” Cordana snapped, her frustration flaring even more at the sight of Khadgar flinching.

 

She was not wrong, the Archmage was a fool, putting just as much trust in champions of the Horde as he did in those of the Alliance. Gallivanting across the lands of Draenor, nearly getting his Champion and himself killed on several occasions. He never listened, always coming up with some half-baked idea that may work but the repercussions were always an afterthought.

 

“Cordana...I-I...” Khadgar bit his lower lip. The usual bravado and confidence were nowhere to be found in his tone. He drew in a breath and steeled himself, forcing his voice to be more firm. “I didn’t mean for things to go this far--”

 

“Well, they did!” Cordana snapped. Her face burned as her temper flared up like a furnace. “You barely think of anything outside of yourself! Hell, you seem to have a death wish! How can I trust you!? How can your precious champion trust you? You almost killed them while trying to empower a ring!”

 

Khadgar stared down at the teacup he was holding. His reflection in the drink’s surface quaked with a subtle shaking of his hands. His gaze moved to rest on the battered, sleeping form of his champion, he had come to value as a true friend.

 

Khadgar made no attempt at defending himself. Admittedly, part of the Archmage _did_ have a death wish. His life was full of war and loss with little to nothing for himself. Friends and loved ones _always_ left him behind. In the end, he always ended up alone. Perhaps there was a darker part of himself that wished to _keep_ his champion always. A dark thought that would bubble up in the face of possible death.

 

‘ _If we go out together, that might not be so bad...’_

 

How pathetic. What a horrible thought to have. Khadgar gave a slow, deep sigh as he looked away from his champion, his _friend_.

 

‘Trust’, was the meaning of his name. It was almost like a cruel joke.

 

-End of Fic 3-


	4. Day 4: “Will that be all?”

**Day 4:** **“Will that be all?”**

 

Talan might have held his establishment in too high of regard but he was a goblin with vision. To him his bar was his castle, a shining beacon of drink and games in Gadgetzan. What was once a simple merchant town in Tanaris desert had begun to grow at a rapid pace with the end of the Third War with an influx of adventurers coming in. It boosted the economy and Gadgetzan had finally grown into a city. There was potential for it to turn into something _big_ and Talan had every intention to capitalize on it.

 

He invested more into his bar, turning it into an inn. He changed its name to ‘The Wanderlust Inn’ to sound more ‘classy’ and spruced up the place to make it more appealing. The inn changed along with Gadgetzan itself, taking more influences from the cultures brought in by travelers, growing in size and adapting in innovation. But Talan had struck gold when he introduced his game nights. Tapping into the natural need and drive of competition, he hired the best gamblers (and cheaters) he knew and would put on gaming events during the nighttime hours. It lured in folks be they curious adventurers or veteran gamblers wanting to watch the drama or try their luck.

 

‘Corven Letharios’ was that of the latter category. Dressed in an old hooded cloak that was possibly once quite nice, he arrived at The Wanderlust Inn like any other adventurer. He ordered a drink and watched as others played in the games as he waited. His emerald green eyes flitted from one game table to the next taking note of what games were being played. He was so focused that he just barely caught the sound of a cup being placed onto the table.

 

“Will that be all?” spoke a feminine voice with a strong accent that was typical among the goblins in Gadgetzan.

 

Corven’s gaze was drawn to a goblin waitress. The ‘uniform’ she had to wear showed off her features but left enough to the imagination. It was hard to imagine that it was all that comfortable though.

She was rather cute in his opinion, with a sturdy frame that hinted she was no stranger to hard work. A glance at her name tag revealed her name was ‘Trixxel’.

 

“Ah, thank you.” Corven offered a smile. “Say, by any chance is there a fee to participate in the games?”

 

Trixxel blinked, then looked over the hooded man before her. Something about him was just odd to her, he was like a walking contradiction. His speech was refined but his cape and hood were in sorry shape. She caught a glimpse of long hair peeking out from under the man’s hood. It was wine-red auburn but the beard on his chin was black like raven feathers.

 

“It’s not really a fee...” Trixxel began. “...But you need at least three hundred pieces of gold to bet with. The copper slots are pretty cheap though, a guy like you can fun with _that_ , right?”

 

“Who do I talk to about joining in?” Corven asked before he took a sip from his glass.

 

“Suit yourself, buddy. You can talk to Talan, he hosts these things himself.” Trixxel then quirked a brow. “But uh, I gotta mention, you’re gonna need to lose the hood. No one’s gonna let you play looking that shady.”

 

Corven pulled back his hood and began to undo his mantle. “Do you have a coat check?”

 

“Uh, sure...I can handle that for ya...” Trixxel blinked as she studied the man, getting the feeling that things were about to get _interesting_.

 

-o-o-o-

 

It was approaching midnight yet the bar of The Wanderlust Inn was still lively. Moreso than earlier that evening thanks to a very lively game of Hearthstone of all things. Talan chewed on the butt of his cigar as he watched more gather around one of the Hearthstone tables. His man, ‘Charming Charlie’, was against the ropes. He did lose at times to lull players into thinking they could actually beat the house. But something was wrong, these games were way too close. Charlie was a _champion_ at Hearthstone but this ‘Corven’ guy was clearly no slouch either. In fact, he was pretty decent at every game he tried that night.

 

Talan signaled one of his bruisers over. He then leaned in towards them and whispered: “That guy’s not allowed to leave, I wanna see if we can put him on a leash.”

 

Not too far away, Trixxel was just carrying a tray of drinks to pass around. Her ears twitched as she just caught what Talan was saying. That idiot really went and did it now. Trixxel nibbled on her lower lip, It would have been easy to just ignore it and continue her night. Yet her feet changed paths and made her way towards the Hearthstone table.

 

“Hey, you wanna another drink?” Trixxel chimed cheerfully as she rested a hand on Corven’s shoulder and gave a tight squeeze. She could feel him tense, safe to say she got his attention. She took one of the glasses from her tray and set it next to him. She then whispered to him: “You’ve got trouble coming...”

 

Corven looked completely calm, he took up the new drink and took a sip. He and whispered, his voice somehow traveled to Trixxel’s ears. “I may have had a little too much fun. If you help me get out of here, I’ll give you half my winnings.”

 

Trixxel blinked, a little surprised by the offer. This won a pretty hefty amount. Half of that and her own savings and she’d have more than enough for her needs. Corven offered her the emptied glass, she took it, smiled and winked back at him. “Don’t forget your cloak at the coat check, alright?”

 

Corven smiled back, looking charming. “No worries, I won’t, I feel quite naked without it.”

 

Trixxel turned and walked away from the table. She sighed through her nose, feeling her stomach twist, she was about to do something _incredibly_ stupid.

 

-End of Fic 4-


	5. Day 5: “Take what you need.”

**Day 5: “Take what you need.”**

 

Khadgar was thankful that Modera had interrupted his meeting with Turalyon. He was truly thankful that his friend was finally home but it truly hit home how different he was. It was only natural of course, everything changed with time, even Khadgar himself was different from who he was years prior.

 

The illusion of a pleasant visit was shattered quickly, Turalyon was there to convince Khadgar (and Dalaran) to rejoin the Alliance. Their conversation quickly turned heated, the deaths of innocents in the Burning of Teldrasil being thrown in Khadgar’s face. That in the end, Jaina’s warning before she left Dalaran was proven true.

 

“ _Where’s your sense of_ _ **justice**_ _, Khadgar?”_ Turalyon’s words echoed in Khadgar’s head.

 

Khadgar was _horrified_ by the actions of the Horde, as were many others who held higher rank in Dalaran. Already there were whispers of ‘concern’ creeping up. Those that wondered if Khadgar was truly up for the job of leading the Kirin Tor. It was politics, political rivals saw a means of ousting him from his position and promptly begun sewing the seeds to do so. Khadgar was certain that challengers were going to rise up soon. They would drag his name through the mud, scrutinize everything he had ever done, and question his mental capacity given the wicked curse that was still upon him.

 

Part of Khadgar would have been glad to simply give his position away, he hated being stuck in roles of leadership. But another part of him held fear, not for himself but the citizens that lived in the city. Members of the Horde who were ousted out of the city by Jaina had returned looking to rebuild the lives they had lost. Khadgar did not want a repeat of the bloodshed in the streets of Dalaran that was now an ugly stain on the city’s history.

 

At the rate things were going Khadgar wasn’t sure if he’d be in power for much longer. He was struggling to juggle the responsibilities he had to both Dalaran and Azeroth as a whole. He didn’t have time for the politics yet the safety of the citizens could be at stake if he didn’t. It left Khadgar’s head a mess of loud fears and tangled thoughts.

 

Finally reaching the door to his office, Khadgar’s hand rested on the doorknob and hesitated to turn it. Modera had interrupted his ‘chat’ with Turalyon mentioning someone else was seeking an audience with him. Khadgar was thankful for the excuse to end the conversation and leave but now he’d probably have to deal with even more trouble. With a deep breath, Khadgar steeled himself and opened the door.

 

Someone was standing in his office with that back to the doorway. At first glance, they appeared to be one of the many adventurers that roamed Azeroth. They dressed simply, with a flare of charming style. A black, hooded doublet that was worn over a loose, comfortable white shirt with puffy sleeves. Their hood was pulled back, revealing a head of long hair that was the color of red wine. They turned around to face Khadgar and offered a warm smile to the Archmage. Their emerald green eyes were the giveaway as to who this visitor really was.

 

“Medivh…?” Khadgar muttered in surprise. He was expecting the magus to disappear, that it was simply wishful thinking.

 

“Have you had lunch yet?” Medivh asked while holding up a wicker basket he had brought with him. “Moroes wanted to make sure you weren’t trying to survive on only pastries.”

 

“What? No, no, I’d never do that...” Khadgar said with a nervous laugh. Seeing Medivh smirk at him with a knowing look made him blush and look away. “I’m just surprised you’re actually here. I mean, you never cared for Dalaran and...you...you  _are_ really here, aren’t you? Or this all just a dream? I can't really tell anymore with all the stress.”

 

Medivh walked over towards Khadgar, his smirk shifted into a warm smile. He raised a hand and playfully poked him in the side earning a startled giggle. “I think I’m real enough.”

 

Khadgar smiled, his shifted from one foot to the other before asking: “Would it be too much trouble to drop the illusion? You’re safe here with me, Medivh.”

 

The older mage’s head canted curiously at the request. Not about to deny him, Medivh reached up, dug his fingers into his own hair, and combed them through. Like ink being poured into wine, the red in the magus’ hair was flooded with black. “Is that better?”

 

Khadgar smiled fondly, thankful that the Magus was willing to indulge him. To most of the world, Medivh Aran was long since dead; only Khadgar (and a seldom few) knew the truth. There was a part of the Archmage that feared that this was all some kind of cruel trick or hallucination.

 

“Trust…?” Medivh looked a little concerned. The younger mage didn't seem to notice that he had drifted for a moment. Medivh then took one of Khadgar’s hand into his own. “Shall we sit down?”

 

With a little coaxing Khadgar was led to a couch in his office and sat down with Medivh. His former master wasted no time getting him to eat some of the food he brought as he filled him in with the goings on in Karazhan. Barnes was working on yet another new play, it was good to see being dead couldn’t kill creativity. Some raiders broke into the tower and stole Midnight’s saddle, Attumen was furious and requested Medivh to find him a replacement. Moroes had requests of his own, mainly things to help with the tower's repair.

 

“Sounds like you’ve been doing a lot of running around.” Khadgar said with a smile. Meeting the ghosts of friends that Medivh held dear was a surreal experience. The Legion's tampering with Karazhan's tower awakened it and stirred up the spirits it held within. Khadgar had to admit that the tower seemed better for it, ironically it felt more alive given that the spirits acted more like old friends and family.

 

Medivh sighed and gave a small nod. “Yes, it’s been a lot of work but I owe it all to them.” He chewed on his lower lip, looking away from Khadgar. “I shouldn’t have avoided things for as long as I did. I should have checked on the tower, I should have gone to you when I heard the news that you were alive in Outland.” Medivh drew in a breath through his nose and released it as a sigh. “I just couldn’t face my own guilt.”

 

“You’re only human.” Khadgar said before sipping from his glass of wine. “I understand that now more than ever.” He stared into his drink, it was red, reminding him of blood. “You’d think that after felling the Legion the Alliance and Horde could see that things work better when united.” Khadgar’s mouth formed a tight line as he sighed through his nose. Turalyon’s words of Teldrasil and justice echoed through his head. “But no...Instead I have friends on both sides of the conflict coming to me, wanting me to join their side. They speak of justice or how they’re just trying to look out for me, using ‘friendship’ like some carrot on a stick.”

 

“You’re lonely, it’s quite obvious so people _will_ take advantage of that.” Medivh said as his eyes searched the office around them.

 

It was cluttered with trinkets and knickknacks, Khadgar was surrounding himself with things he liked. It was something Medivh had done himself. He filled his tower with friends along with artifacts and novelty. For a time, being the guardian wasn’t so bad. Medivh had a reason to keep going outside of a duty he never asked for. Then suddenly the warm home he made and the family it held within was gone. Moroes, who had survived the carnage by some miracle was so mentally scarred by the incident that Medivh had to seal his memories. The faithful Castellan wasn’t the same after that and Medivh was alone again, more than ever before with Moroes so broken. That loneliness served in helping along the fraying and darkening of Medivh’s mind.

 

Khadgar couldn’t follow that path, Medivh _refused_ to let that happen.

 

“You’ve been put on a pedestal, held to a standard that _very few_ can live up to.” Medivh began, remembering his own frustrations as the Guardian. “But you try anyway and you give _everything_. Your effort, your strength, your love, and it’s terribly lonely. A world _needs_ love but it _can’t_ love you back.”

 

“It’s so frustrating.” Khadgar said just above a whisper.

 

“It is, that’s why you can’t hold yourself to that standard. You have to let yourself be human.” Medivh said. “You need to be a little selfish and have something other than Azeroth. Be it friends, family, a lover or two, or just things that mean something to you in this world.”

 

Khadgar stared at Medivh in silence, his face a little flush from wine and a quiet, perhaps scandalous thought. The look wasn’t lost on the older mage but to spare Khadgar the embarrassment he refrained from playfully commenting. Instead, he made an offer.

 

“Would like a head scratch?” Medivh asked.

 

“Pardon…?” Khadgar gave a confused blink at the sudden change of subject.

 

Medivh smirked as he held up a hand and wiggled his fingers at Khadgar. His nails were long, well kept and lacquered in black. “These serve more than my enjoyment for aesthetic.”

 

Khadgar blushed a little deeper, his mouth opened and closed as his mind looked for words. “I-I...I couldn’t...That’s um, w-we...”

 

“Are no longer master and apprentice.” Medivh said with a shrug. “I offer as your equal or as a friend if you prefer.”

 

Khadgar nibbled on his lower lip, breaking eye contact as he seemed to think the prospect over for a moment. With a small sigh, he set his glass of wine down and moved to be a little closer to Medivh. The feeling of long nails combing through his hair and gently tracing lines against his skin made Khadgar shiver. Medivh worked his scalp, rubbed his temples, and caressed his face.

 

The touch was affectionate, Khadgar soaked it up like a sponge and still craved more. ‘Touch starvation’ was a common issue among many magi for a number of reasons. Some feared intimacy, many simply didn’t have time, in the past, when laws were even stricter, it was even discouraged. Khadgar was a product of all three reasons. Yet here he was, his defenses crumbling by simple touch under the skilled fingers of his former master.

 

Medivh studied Khadgar as he treated him. It didn’t take a genius to see that silver-haired mage was exhausted. Medivh’s eyes flitted over Khadgar and noted the numerous signs. The dark circles under the younger mage’s eyes made it look like he hadn’t slept in a hundred years. The illusion that Khadgar had wrapped himself in to hide his true face had waned in some areas. He looked more aged, a few more wrinkles and faded scars on his face became more noticeable.

 

“Maybe take this illusion off for a while?” Medivh suggested. “You’re tired, you should conserve your energy.”

 

“No.” Khadgar said, his voice was soft but the tone was clear as day.

 

“Hmm, very well then...” Medivh wouldn’t push the matter any further. He hadn’t the right given he placed such a cruel curse on him in the first place. Throes of madness or not, Medivh had harmed Khadgar and wrecked his life. From what he could tell of the jumbled spellwork, it would not rest until it finally killed him. Medivh needed to figure out how to remove it and soon. For now though, Khadgar needed rest. “Would you be willing to take a nap then? Even a short one could do you some good.”

 

“Will you still be here?” Khadgar asked, wincing at how childish he must have sounded.

 

“For you? Yes...” Medivh said without missing a beat. “I’m here for you. Take what you need from me, I’ll give you all that I can.”

 

It was hard to pinpoint just what their relationship was evolving into. It took so many forms already over the years. Yet there was always love there, be it the respect of mentor and student, a bond between friends, or the nostalgia of better days that were long since past.

 

What shape would it take this time?

 

-End of Fic 5-

 

 


	6. Day 6: “I heard enough, this ends now.”

**Day 6: “I heard enough, this ends now.”**

 

“Have you gone mad?”

 

“Not now, Moroes...” Aegwynn sighed while scrawling down notes. She could feel his eyes burning into her as he stood his ground before her desk. She could imagine how his amber eyes were harsh in silent judgment. “Don’t you have duties? If you can afford to stand around there gawking then make me some tea. I don’t need you hounding me over the morals of my projects.”

 

“Excuse you, but _what_?” Moroes said with a quirked brow. With a frown he reached up and rubbed one of his temples, trying to will away the telltale twinge of an oncoming headache. Moroes drew in a breath and released it as a sigh before speaking in a firm tone. “Aegwynn, that’s not some ‘project’ or ‘experiment’, he’s your _son_.”

 

“And as my son I expect him to start acting like it.” Aegwynn said with nonchalance. “He’s a grown man, there’s no need to coddle him. A Guardian needs to be able to separate themselves from emotions and do their duties to the world.”

 

A large, thin hand splayed itself onto her book and blocked her view. With a small huff, Aegwynn looked up at her Castellan. Her steely gaze was met with one of burning defiance, Moroes wasn’t about to let the matter go. As her close friend, he was the only person that she’d allow to be ornery with her. Most of the time his honesty was refreshing but it could grate on her nerves now and then.

 

“Medivh’s been in a coma for ten _years_ , he’s only been awake for ten _days_.” Moroes spoke at a slower pace, making sure each word was clear. “He still has the mind of a boy and is grieving over the death of his father. Aegwynn, Medivh is a mess, he needs you to be his parent.”

 

“Absolutely not.” Aegwynn waved a hand and an invisible force shoved Moroes’ hand away. “I have my own affairs to tend to, I’m not going to waste my time playing ‘mommy’ to a man-child.”

 

“Well, pardon me for being a little old fashioned...” Moroes began, his tone elegant but laced with poisonous sarcasm. “...But I figure that when you make the choice to have a child, you sign up to actually _be_ a parent.”

 

“Don’t be so dramatic, that’s why I left him in Nielas’ care. It allowed his affections to be good for something.” Aegwynn said with a roll of her eyes. She finished jotting down the last of her notes for that day and set her quill aside. “And why make it sound like I’m throwing him out to the wolves? This book I’ve been slaving over is to be a detailed guide.”

 

“You could just go with the novel idea of teaching _him yourself_.”

 

Upon being sure that the ink was dry, the book snapped shut, the emblem of a raven emblazoned across its cover.

 

“I’m tired, Moroes.” Aegwynn said before giving a sigh and sitting back in her chair. “I’ve been the Guardian for over a thousand years. I’d like to have what time I have left in this world for myself.” She played with one of the rings on her fingers, not looking at her friend. “So forgive me, when I see the finish line so close, I _a_ _m_ going to dash for it.”

 

“And leaving behind a mess.” Moroes reminded her. “For Light’s sake, Aegwynn, at least take that power away from him and give it to someone else. Let the young man have a normal life.”

 

“Impossible at this point. The powers of the Guardian are woven into Medivh’s _very being_. Instinct will help him get a feel for what to do while this book can fill in the gaps.” Aegwynn said with complete confidence. She smiled at the ingenuity of her own plan, how carefully she had set it up all the while she had life forming in her belly. “It’s like pushing a fledgling out of a nest, Medivh _will_ learn to fly.”

 

“You mean that it’ll be a form of ‘self-teaching’?” Moroes said with a quirked brow.

 

“Clever, isn’t it?” Aegwynn smirked at him. “Like the instincts of an animal in the wild.”

 

“He’s not an animal.” Moroes said in a flat tone. “You say that Medivh needs to grow up? Aggie, you may be over a thousand years old but you still act like a brat.”

 

Aegwynn’s mouth set into a hard line before she slammed a fist onto her desk. Everything on it shook with a sudden spark of arcane energy.“I heard enough, this ends now.”

 

The pair stared each other down, Moroes wasn’t impressed with Aegwynn’s loss temper. He had bared witness to her worst side plenty of times before. Where people often abandoned her, he always remained. But something was different that time, her emerald eyes flickered with something sinister.

 

Quiet fury suddenly melted away into a wicked, knowing smile. Some sort of idea must have blossomed in Aegwynn’s mind.

 

“You’re right, Medivh _does_ need someone to hold his hand, doesn’t he?” Aegwynn said condescendingly. “If I remember right, you once mentioned to me that given your penchant for other men you’d regrettably didn’t have children of your own. Well, congratulations Moroes, I’ll give you mine. He’s your problem now...”

 

-End of Fic 6-


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